Saints and Sinners
by mikanlove
Summary: They were from different worlds, and opposite alignments. Incompatible in every way. Marinette never meant to get tangled up in the business of a criminal. It was truly the epitome of being in the wrong place, at the wrong time. Without knowing, she entered his forbidden world. She just wished she didn't like it so much.
1. Prologue

The thoughts were accelerating inside his head. He wanted them to slow down so he could breathe, but they wouldn't. His breaths came out in gasps, and he felt as if he would black out at any given moment. His heart hammered in his chest, as if it belonged to a rabbit running for its skin. The room span as he squatted on the floor. He felt so sick. He wanted to call an ambulance, but the phone was too far away.

He tucked his legs up to his chest, his eyes screwed tightly shut as they began to sting with unshed tears. He clenched his numb hands into a fist, clamping them securely over his ears. He hid his head between his knees. The world had already began to slowly fade out, and he felt isolated. Trapped. It felt as if he were drowning, and there was no way to escape the water. Maybe he didn't _want_ to resurface. At least now he was far away from reality, where he felt safe in the confinements of his own mind. Although, his imagination was jeopardizing him more than anything right now.

His breathing was shallow and quick, and he often gasped for air in a desperate attempt to regulate his respiration. His fingers were now entangled in his disheveled honey-blonde locks, as they gripped for something, _anything_ , to relieve him from this stressful, mess of a state he was stuck in. He was dressed slovenly, the end of his tie thrown carelessly over his shoulder with the knot halfway undone, although that was quite possibly the last concern on his mind.

" _Adrien,_ " a benevolent voice called his name, capturing his attention. He snapped his head up, finding the figure of a girl on the end of the couch opposite to him. Her features were blurred by his tears, leaving and any sort of detailing on the girl unidentifiable. Still, even in his frenzied state, the hair and eyes unmistakably belonged to her. _Marinette_.

He thrusted out his hand out, reaching for hers. As if answering his prayers, she wrapped her hands around his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I'm here. You're okay." She gently pressed his knuckles up to her soft lips. Her presence sobered him, as she drew him out from the darkness.

That's right… it was her. She was his precious light in a world so dark. A gift, blessing… whatever you may call it.

She was his savior. A pure, clean angel that he didn't want to taint with his darkness.


	2. I

It was past midnight. Despite how late it was, the room remained brightly lit by various lamps, and a single television. The sizable window, which led to a mini-balcony, was hidden behind equally as large, velvety curtains.

She resided on her mattress, the area where she sat dipping ever so slightly beneath her weight. A fringed cashmere blanket was cozily wrapped around her shoulders, providing warmth during this chilly night. Her hand rested against the smooth, yet dangerously sharp edge of the sketchbook, as she allowed the pencil to glide across the paper with ease. She etched out an unvarnished sketch of a dress, before gently blowing air on it, allowing the extra bits of lead to scatter away.

A small, satisfied smile graced her lips as she observed the raw sketch, erasing a few unnecessary reference lines. For a few nights now, she'd been trying to perfect a dress design for their end of the year school dance. Now feeling pleased with her efforts, she finally realized how tired she was. Her lips parted in a yawn, instinctively bringing her hand up to hide it. Deciding to call it a night, she shut the cover of the book, setting it off to the side. She reached for the TV remote, watching the screen for a few moments as she considered turning it off.

" _The infamous Chat Noir has just striked again, this time breaking into a jewelry store here in Downtown Paris. By the time police arrived at the scene, the slick criminal was already gone. Many valuables were taken, the estimated total of all the items equalling up to about twenty-thousand dollars worth of jewelry. Police believe they're gaining a lead on this offender, so remain hopeful, p_ —"

Marinette switched the television off, tossing the remote aside as well. The criminal activity in Paris had been heavy recently, most of the ruckus being caused by this Chat Noir fellow. She wondered what the motive was for these peoples' actions. Surely they had some sense of morality left in them, as the mischief they caused was never related to murder or endangering lives. Other than their own, she supposed.

She brushed her hair back, briefly shaking her head. She had sleep to catch up on, and couldn't be bothered with worrying about the lives of some delinquents. They were probably just delusional, messed up people. Providing herself with that explanation and sticking to it, she pulled the blanket tighter around herself, laying her head down on her favorite ivory, faux-fur pillow. The material rested against her cheek comfortingly, although occasionally, the wispier strands would brush up against her nose and tickle. She didn't mind, though.

Normally, the thoughts swarming her mind would've made sleeping difficult, however her entire being was so clouded by sleep that she could hardly remember any worries that previously plagued her.

 **-o-**

The next morning, Marinette found it difficult to even open her eyes. As the music from her alarm resounded loudly, rather than getting up to turn it off, she merely hid her head beneath the covers, pressing her palms against her ears in an attempt to block out the sound.

After a few moments, the music finally halted. At last, she thought she could resume sleeping with no interruptions. That is, until she remembered her snooze setting. That stupid music would blare through the speakers again in only a measly five minutes. Sighing in defeat, the girl lazily kicked the covers off, before sitting up and throwing her legs over the side of the bed. Due to the height of said bed, her feet dangled a couple inches above the floor as she leaned over to her nightstand, turning her alarm clock off.

She arched her back and reached her hands toward the ceiling, letting out a soft groan as she stretched her tired limbs. She slid off the bed, allowing her feet to touch the floor. The blissful caress of the flokati rug beneath her feet was enough to usher her to move along with her day. She continued to the bathroom, deciding to take a warm shower and fully wake herself up.

After finishing her basic hygienic necessities, Marinette changed her clothes before heading out. Today, she decided on wearing a basic white tee, along with light wash jeans. She also sported her usual pigtails, pulled back by red hair ties.

Bidding farewell to only her mother, as her father had already left for his work, the girl then began her trek to school. For once, it felt nice to take her time on the way there, or even be able to. She wasn't exactly known for her stellar attendance, to say the least. She took in the sights of the familiar neighborhood, also enjoying the mouthwatering smells wafting from various restaurants, cafés, and bakeries.

"Marinette!"

She instinctively turned around upon hearing her name, finding a brunette girl running toward her. It was unmistakably her best friend, Alya. She'd almost forgotten that they lived in the same direction. "Do you usually walk this way?" Marinette asked, briefly stopping for the girl to catch up. They'd never run into each other in the mornings before.

Alya rolled her eyes, placing a hand on her friend's shoulder. "I _always_ do. You wouldn't know that, of course, because you're always up late." She smiled good-naturedly, contrasting her playfully distasteful words. "Something important happening today?" She knew Marinette well. The girl would only wake up early if it were Adrien's birthday, or if there was a big project due the next day. Any other exceptions were rare occurrences.

"No," she replied simply, as it was the truth. "Although, I do have that stupid volunteer work after school today…" Her tone expressed her disinterest in doing such a task.

"Volunteer work? I don't remember you mentioning this." Alya glanced over curiously. Usually, she knew everything the girl had going on in her life.

"Yeah. It's something I got roped into doing, per request of my parents. Or, rather, demand of," Marinette replied, shrugging a shoulder.

"At least you'll be helping those who are less fortunate," Alya offered, trying to look on the bright side of things. Besides, Marinette would be able to gather some of her required volunteer hours to graduate. It wasn't all that bad of a deal.

"It's not even that kind of volunteer work," she informed, assuming Alya was under the impression that this was some kind of charity work. "I'm literally going to be _sweeping floors_."

The brunette snickered at that, clearly having no sympathy for the girl. "Did you get a job as a janitor, girl?"

"I wish. At least then I'd be getting paid," Marinette deadpanned. Already sensing her friend's upcoming question, she elaborated on the situation. "I got grounded for staying out past curfew. The only way to terminate my punishment is to do this volunteer work."

Alya seemed surprised by this. Marinette's parents didn't seem like the kind of people who would get upset over petty matters. "Just for staying out past curfew? That's a little much."

"I mean, I was out almost nine hours past curfew…" Even Marinette knew her parents weren't being unreasonable this time around. When she checked her phone that next morning, she knew she was dead meat the moment she saw over _fifty_ missed calls from each her mother and father.

" _What_? I know for a fact you weren't with me. Were you at a club?" She raised an eyebrow. Marinette didn't strike her as a party animal, though she supposed looks could be deceiving.

"I _was_ with you!" She retorted, not allowing time for Alya's imagination to run wild. "Remember when I slept over a couple days ago?"

"Yeah, but you said your parents knew about that…" Based off that sentence alone, she already knew where this was going.

"I kind of lied by accident," Marinette said, flashing a sheepish grin to Alya. "I was going to tell them, but I was also starting to doze off… I thought I was only going to take a short nap, honest!" This happened to her a lot. It was the main reason to blame for her tardies at school, as well. She would close her eyes, promising herself that she'd only rest them for a couple minutes… until those couple minutes quickly turned into a couple hours.

"Only you would do that, Marinette…" She shook her head, knowingly. "Wouldn't your parents understand if you told them you were with me?" If their main concern was her safety, surely they'd be assured if they knew the girls were together.

"I did tell them," she responded. "They said it was irresponsible nonetheless. Anyway, it's not like I haven't swept a floor or two in my life." Marinette knew there was no way of getting herself out of this one, so she'd just have to humbly accept the repercussions.

"Where do you have to do it?" Alya wondered. She assumed it'd be somewhere other than her house.

"My dad's workplace."

"It shouldn't be that bad, then." It really wasn't the worst consequence, and she knew Marinette was aware of that, as well. The girl just liked to vent and complain for the sake of it, not because she felt that her life was unfavorable.

"Yeah, but after I finish cleaning, I have to wait for his shift to end for a ride home." Her father's work hours varied depending on what tasks he had to finish that day, however his shift normally ended around eight.

"That sucks. Feel free to text me and kill time," she offered the most she could, which Marinette appreciated.

"Will do." They approached the school building of Françoise Dupont High School, which appeared rather lavish in comparison to most public schools. It was an off-white, almost cream color, with a matching interior.

"Look who it is," Alya murmured to Marinette, nudging the girl with her elbow. Marinette followed her friend's gaze, only to find a particular blonde male. His usual spruce and orderly appearance was a bit more unkempt this morning, however he still managed to look devilishly handsome. She figured his model genes could be to thank for that.

Her eyes continued to follow him as he made his way up the stairs to where the two girls were standing. Marinette began to internally freak out, considering the possibility that he may initiate a conversation with her. She suddenly felt very fortunate, having used her favorite strawberry scented body wash earlier this morning. Still, that didn't make her feel any less stupidly unconfident.

Just as he neared the last step, Marinette wiped her palms on the fabric of her jeans, not wanting them to be clammy. Now only standing a few feet away from him, she mentally prepared herself for what may come next. She chose to play it cool, pretending to observe her painted red nails.

To her dismay, nothing ever happened.

He ambled past her, as if she were never there in the first place. Although disappointed, Marinette couldn't say this was unexpected. This was how it played out everytime. She'd get all worked up, only to be ignored. She still couldn't tell if he was playing dumb or _actually_ didn't notice her all this time. She dropped her hand back down to her side, sighing.

"Hey, Nino," she heard the blonde's familiar voice.

"Jesus. You look like death warmed over," the other male replied. She could easily identify this one as Nino, also respectively known as Alya's unofficial lover.

Adrien chuckled warmly in response. "Yeah. I got to sleep around midnight… You know how I am, always studying." It was no secret that he came from an elite family with high standards. With that pressure to meet those standards, Adrien often had no time for himself between his modelling career and school. Marinette wondered how exhausting it must've been to live like that.

As Nino reprimanded Adrien for his lacking self care ethics, Marinette felt a gentle tug on her arm. She glanced over at Alya, only then realizing how long she'd been eavesdropping.

"Let's get to class," she urged the girl. Marinette agreed with a nod. They entered the building together.

 **-o-**

 **if you guys haven't noticed, this is a no miraculous AU! just in case that was confusing to anyone, wanted to clear that up. also, her family doesn't own a bakery in this au!**


	3. II

After sitting through a few noisomely boring hours of lessons, the school day ended and teens were finally set free. While most returned to their homes, attended their sports practices, or left with their friends to hang out, Marinette sat in the back of her father's Opel Corsa, headed off to some boring workplace.

"Don't look so glum," her father said, taking a glance at her through the prismatic rear-view mirror.

"I'm not glum. Just tired." She gave a lackluster response.

"Better save some energy for your upcoming work," he encouraged, although it just sounded patronizing to her. Marinette kept her eyes trained outside the window, observing the passing scenery.

"You don't have to remind me," she feigned annoyance, hoping he'd leave her alone for the time being if she acted spirited as usual.

"Alright," he brushed her response off, sensing that she wasn't in the mood for conversation. Marinette leaned her head against the window of the car, recalling today's events. She still couldn't get Adrien out of her head. Rather than a blessing, she found that having a crush was more of a curse. Whenever their eyes met, it felt like liquid adrenaline being injected right into her bloodstream. Her skin would tingle, and her heart beat erratically in her chest. She didn't know that liking someone also meant signing up to be a big, gushy mess whenever they were in your vicinity.

She still remembered the moment that she realized she had a thing for him. She couldn't find her voice, her cheeks flushed hot, and her stomach was heavy. She felt her heart as it pounded in her throat, threatening to break out. While his eyes wandered, hers stayed locked on him. She'd always heard that cheesy line used in love songs, "he takes my breath away", but only then did she realize how much sense it made.

Although, not much changed between the two since then. They'd exchange a few words, or maybe hang out if Nino and Alya went along as well, leaving Marinette convinced that he wasn't interested in her. There was no point in grasping at straws, after all. She was able to accept the truth, even if it wasn't the truth she wanted to hear.

Marinette was snapped back to reality as she heard her father begin to speak. Initially thinking he was talking to her, she glanced over, only to notice the cell phone held against his ear. She wondered who he could be talking to.

"Yes, I left to pick up my daughter…" The curious girl in the backseat listened for anything that could clue her in on who it was. She assumed it was a co-worker of his, based on the context. "I'll be there in a couple minutes. Don't lose him." He hung up the phone, tossing it to the passenger seat, stepping on the gas pedal and now driving more recklessly than before.

"Papa," Marinette called, now sitting up straight. "Don't lose who?"

"Don't worry about it," he brusquely replied. "It's not important."

She didn't press the matter, assuming she'd end up finding out in a few minutes, anyway. Even though the matter likely didn't involve her in any way, shape, or form, she still found herself feeling anxious. It was a quick drive from there, and they arrived at his workplace in no time. Her father quickly opened his door, however paused for a moment and turned to Marinette.

"Marinette, I need to take care of something inside. Wait here in the car."

"What? But you brought me all this way—" She was impertinently cut off by the loud slam of the car door. She slouched in her seat, grumpily. She couldn't believe that after coming all this way, she had to sit in a stuffy car for _who knows_ how long.

Time flowed like cement. She checked her cell for the time. A minute had passed since she last checked an hour ago, or so it seemed. The world's spinning suddenly felt like it was slower. Everything was so much slower, like molasses dripping off a spoon. Staring at the interior of a car quickly became mundane. She tried to wait, she really did… but her frustration and curiosity both bested her.

Marinette shoved the door open, hopping off the seat and onto the concrete, before securing the door behind her. She entered the police precinct, approaching the security sitting at the front desk. "Hello," she greeted, "I'm Tom Dupain's daughter." Before she was able to explain anything else, the woman began to speak.

"Oh, we've been informed of your arrival." Marinette was chagrined when the woman then pointed to a hall. "You can find the janitor's closet down the hall, first door on your left. Start wherever you'd like—just don't enter any restricted areas, such as the interrogation rooms, locker rooms, or private offices." The doors opened, granting the girl access to enter.

She avoided eye contact, just nodding in acknowledgement, before wandering down the hall she'd been directed to. This wasn't the best first impression she could've made. The security woman probably viewed her as some sort of troublesome, disobedient child now. Although she _did_ disobey a set rule, she supposed, it wasn't without reason. She was sure her father didn't include _that_ part when telling his coworkers about her.

Marinette twisted open the closet, grabbing a broom and dustpan from the compact room. She started sweeping down the hall furthest from the entrance, deciding to work her way to the front before moving onto the next hall. Honestly, if it were between sitting around and rotting in boredom or cleaning, Marinette would choose the latter, so she didn't mind this task all that much. Sure, the idea of it was unappealing, but it was something to occupy her time.

As she swept, her mind wandered back to her dress design. She felt a rush of excitement run through her body as she thought of actually assembling it and bringing her idea to life. She made a mental note to check her supplies tonight, and to buy any necessary materials the next day.

She planned on making a vintage-style flare dress with a cinched waist and a pleated skirt, the color palette consisting of mainly red and black. Black gave a classy and chic appearance, while the red bestowed a pop of color to the look. The back dipped down low enough to show some skin, however it was still kept fairly modest. She didn't want to feel naked in her attire.

As the girl thought of her many upcoming tasks and cleaned, her phone suddenly buzzed loudly in her pocket. She paused, propping the broom up against a wall, before checking her phone. She was almost hoping it was her father, and that he had called to explain the situation, however all chances of that happening were crushed as the name _Alya_ shone up from her screen. She pressed the green button, accepting her friend's call.

"Hey, Alya. I'm kind of busy right now, I've gotta finish c—"

Alya was quick to interrupt. "Girl, I _guarantee_ you that this is more important," she boldly stated.

Marinette wondered what could be so important. Suddenly, she gasped. "What, did Adrien get a girlfriend?" Her voice hitched up at the end of her sentence.

"No, no. It's not about Adrien," she reassured the panicky girl. "Haven't you heard the news about Chat Noir?"

Marinette calmed down, only to be put back on alert at the sound of Chat Noir's name. "No…" She pressed her lips together thinly.

"They finally caught him."

"What? The indomitable Chat Noir was captured?" She couldn't believe her ears. When the news anchor announced that they had a lead last night, she didn't think they were being _serious_. They've been saying that for over a year, with no results to back up their words.

"I know, I thought it was a joke," Alya sounded equally as surprised. She'd only just heard about the news, as well.

"How?"

"There isn't much disclosure about the matter right now, but it sounds like he was found terrorizing a civilian." Her voice held abhorrence as she spoke that sentence.

Marinette's heart dropped. She felt sick to her stomach. She couldn't believe she once thought that such criminals could have a sense of morality. She was wrong for assuming that. "Is the person okay?"

"I don't know. That kind of information is confidential, as of now."

"Why?" Her voice was soft, as if hearing this somehow hurt her personally.

"Well, the identity and privacy of a victim is importa—"

"No, I mean, why would he do that at such an hour? The sun hasn't even set." Marinette assumed him to be smarter than that. In order to be such a _slick criminal_ , as they said on the news, you had to use your brain. Which, he had been doing, until now.

"Beats me. He's probably messed in the head and didn't think it through properly."

Marinette doubted this was the case. For a couple years now, Chat Noir had built his reputation, never once slipping up or getting caught. There was no way he'd throw all that away, especially over such an obvious mistake. There was a reason he always struck in the dead of the night, after all—to avoid getting caught. Was his brain slowly decaying inside his head or something? Did he have memory loss? Nothing was adding up. Nevertheless, she hummed in agreement. "Yeah, probably."

"Anyway, you should finish your work, girl. Hope you're having fun!" The topic was changed so quickly, Marinette swore she got whiplash.

"I'm having the time of my life," she replied, sarcasm practically dripping from each word she spoke. "Anyway, I'm hanging up now. I'll text you later," she informed the girl, hearing a "goodbye" ring into her ear before the line hung up.

Marinette tucked her phone in her back pocket, before reaching for the broom, observing the progress she made on cleaning. So far, almost all of it was finished. The epoxied flooring shone even beneath the dim lights in the hallway.

She jolted in surprise when a thunderous crash echoed throughout the near-silent station. She swore it shook the ground beneath her, nearly causing her to have a heart attack. Earthquakes were _not_ her cup of tea. Once she recovered from the brief shock, she searched for the source of the noise. If she wasn't mistaken, it seemed the noise came from an interrogation room.

Almost instantly after the fact, a leather-clad figure came sprinting down the hallway, the soles of his shoes leaving murky imprints of a foot on the freshly swept floors. Instinctively, Marinette reached out as he passed, firmly gripping his arm and halting him in his tracks. He wore a bewildered expression, and appeared to be in a rush.

She held him by the collar of his suit, successfully pulling him closer, annoyance practically radiating off the girl. "Are you serious? You can't just ruin my hard work and then saunter off like nobody's business. If I—" She paused, only now getting a good look at this person. His face was partially covered by a black mask that matched his black leather attire and feline ears. She gasped in horror, recognizing him as the one and only Chat Noir.

Her gaze met his, and for a split second, she almost thought those eyes belonged to someone else. She soon realized she was mistaken. _His_ eyes were the glimmering color of emerald, sparkling in the light of the morning sun like a fresh sheen of morning dew. They were the green that brings the earth back to life after an unforgiving cold. The kind of green that budded on the prisoners of winter, bringing life back to their branches. The ones she looked into now were different. They held a mischievous glint, and had an almost predacious feel. Yet, even in the midst of it all, she could sense a hint of fear. It caught her off guard, as if she'd forgotten that criminals could feel such emotions.

"Listen, I don't have time for your bullshit," he spat venomously, attempting to peel her hands away from his collar. This only encouraged the girl to tighten her grip. As they maintained eye contact, she swore she saw a flash of recognition in his eyes as well, as if he knew her, though it was gone as quickly as it came. She reminded herself that it was an absurd thought, anyway.

"Stop acting so tough," her words were tormenting, while her tone had an edge of warning to it. "Right now, I could either save your life or _destroy_ it. I recommend you start behaving before I do something you'll regret."

A conflicted look crossed his face, before he reached a hand up, wrapping his leathered fingers around Marinette's lissome neck. "I won't hesitate." Even though his tone was menacing, his actions and words weren't matching up. His touch was gentle, his fingers hardly brushing against her skin, as if he were afraid of accidentally hurting her. It seemed to her that he was hesitating quite a bit. She couldn't believe this was the same Chat Noir that, only earlier today, terrorized an innocent being.

Before either were allowed to act on their words, their time was up. In only a matter of seconds, cops bounded out of the interrogation room, weapons in hand. It didn't take long for their eyes to land on the two embracing in the hallway. The female had her arms wrapped around his neck lovingly, while the male cradled his hand in the crook of her neck. Their faces were only inches away from one another's, suggesting that perhaps they'd been caught in the middle of an intimate scene… or, so it seemed to them.

One of the cops rose a device to his lips, before speaking. "The fugitive has an accomplice. Send backup."

Marinette's face paled, and her throat grew dry. She couldn't believe what a predicament she was in. Did they think… she was Chat Noir's partner in crime?

 **-o-**

 **thank you to everyone for your encouragement on this story :))**


	4. III

Chat dropped his hand from her neck, hissing in frustration. Making a last-minute decision, he hastily wrapped his arm around Marinette's waist, before hoisting her up into his arms. He bolted in the opposite direction of the interrogation rooms, footsteps heavy on the floor. When they reached the end of the hall, instead of taking a right toward the entrance, he veered left, speedily ascending up the staircase. She released his collar, instead securely locking her arms around his neck. His plan was still a mystery to her, but she knew that at this point, there was no going back. They considered her a bad guy, and returning would only put her in more potential danger.

Once they reached the next floor, Chat headed straight for a vacant office. He rushed to a window, briefly removing one of his hands that supported Marinette to open the window. It was obvious by now what his plan was. She wondered if they would even be able to survive this kind of jump.

"Wai—" she began to protest, before getting cut off.

"Can't you read a dangerous situation? Stop talking." His tone was serious, and somehow made Marinette feel obliged to comply. Normally, she would at least retort, however she knew he was right. Nothing she could say at this point would make anything better. The voices of cops began to grow louder, and she could soon make out the sound of their footsteps.

"Close your eyes."

Marinette did as told, screwing her eyes shut. She didn't know why she trusted him. She knew she shouldn't, and she felt crazy for relying on this criminal. Maybe _she_ was the one that was messed up in the head.

There was a bit of movement, and she could feel them being hoisted into the air, before they fell. The speed at which they plummeted to the ground was terrifying, and caused her stomach to drop. She felt nauseous, as if in one of those fancy hotel elevators that moved far too abruptly. Along with the initial fright, however, came relief. The voices that previously worried her now faded away, as the duo sprung back up into the air, landing safely on another building.

She peeked through one of her eyes, staring at the city in awe as they bounded across the rooftops at an astounding speed. Beyond the horizon, the sun illuminated the shimmering haze of pollution. In the far distance, the silhouette of the skyline pierced through the warm glow like a jagged mountain ridge. Millions of lights caused the dense mass of skyscrapers to glitter. People were needle points and cars were blood cells flowing through the veins of the city. Despite the time, the hustle and bustle never came to a halt.

She'd never seen Paris from this perspective. The fear she previously felt was absent, replaced instead with a rush of thrill. She could almost see the appeal of doing this often. Not becoming a criminal, that is, but just… escaping. Her life wasn't particularly suffocating or anything, but getting out like this allowed her to feel free. Somehow, rather than feeling uneasy about their escapade, she felt oddly calm. Not safe, per se, as she currently resided in the arms of a criminal, but it almost felt surreal. She hadn't come to terms with what was currently happening. It was as if her mind needed time to catch up with the events.

Marinette still didn't know where Chat Noir planned on taking them, but didn't dare question it, fearing a possibly violent reaction, especially after her little stunt back in the hallway.

They headed for the outskirts of the city, their pace remaining quick and stealthy even if the police were nowhere to be seen. She glanced up at her heroic kidnapper, getting a good look at his face. Delicate blonde hairs fell onto his black, leather mask. He was angelic, yet his eyes bore a hard expression, a warning of the devil beneath.

"Not too discreet, huh?" His words were teasing, almost a refreshing contrast from his usual hostility. Marinette dropped her gaze, focusing on her pants instead.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she denied him the pleasure of hearing her admit to her actions. Seeing as he broke the ice first, she decided the time was right to ask her long-awaited question. "Where are you even taking me?"

"You talk as if I'd like to bring you along," he remarked, insinuating that she was only a nuisance. It would've offended her, had she not remembered who she was talking to.

"You obviously did, though," she pointed out, a coy yet complacent grin playing on her lips. Instead of irking him as she'd anticipated, he responded rather calmly. It was almost uncharacteristic.

"I had to."

His answer confused her. Really, he didn't _have_ to do anything. Evidently, even the law didn't do much to stop him from doing as he pleased. "You could've left me."

"You…" A sigh passed by his lips. He seemed to rethink his words, before speaking again. It was obvious he didn't know how to respond. "Stop being troublesome and nosy." His childish response sparked some gaiety in her.

"Funny hearing that coming from Mr. Criminal himself," Marinette mused, her tone easily mistaken for being ridiculing. They passed a cluster of verdant green, entering what she soon realized to be a forest. Not the ideal place to be with a possible lunatic, that much was for sure. Or at least, that's what people called him. Despite the opinions of everyone else, she felt that he wasn't all that bad, and she hoped he wouldn't be giving her any reason to think otherwise.

"The name's Chat Noir, mind you," he proclaimed, announcing it in such a prideful way that came off as boasting. She supposed that after years of earning a title and well-recognized name, even if not for a good cause, it gave you bragging rights of some sort. He _was_ famous, just for all the wrong reasons.

"Big difference," she deadpanned, knocking him off his high horse.

"Me- _owch_ ," he feigned offense. Marinette stifled a laugh. It was oddly fitting, the whole cat gig he was running with the ears and puns. Still, she couldn't help but find it amusing how Paris's number one criminal was, if you simplified it, just a boy with a thing for cats. "You know, that's when you're supposed to tell me your name," he informed her.

"Sorry." Her apology was shallow and insincere. "I don't hand out my information to just _anyone_."

"Looks like you've forgotten who you're talking to, _princess_." The name that was usually used lovingly to others was spoken to her condescendingly, a disparity from the usage amongst royalty. He glowered at her, that one brief look being enough to shut her up.

Quipping and bantering with him had briefly thrown her off track. This was _the_ Chat Noir she was talking to, after all. Only a fool, or perhaps someone with a death wish, would dare disrespect him. His words set her back in her place. Now a bit more timidly, she apologized once more. "Sorry." The words still held no sincerity to them, however they weren't spoken challengingly as before. He parted his lips, as if to say something, before closing them. He'd regretted his tone, meaning to only say them as a joke, though they came out wrong. The same tense silence that previously lingered between them now resumed. Luckily, they reached their destination in no time, making the short and taciturn trip bearable.

Marinette eyed the house in front of them with awe and admiration. No, _house_ wasn't even the right word. This was practically a mansion. Ivy and ferns grew through the crevices of the old winding stone path, which led directly to the colossal structure. The mansion loomed proudly behind the mass amounts of leaves that obscured it from an outsider's view. At its threshold stood a delicate marble fountain, the soft gurgling of the clear water melodic as it resonated in the surrounding silence. She couldn't believe this kind of place had been concealed away in the dense forest.

He eased her out of his arms, allowing her feet to land softly on the ground. It felt odd to suddenly stand still, after all that time of being in the air. It was like taking your first few steps after a rollercoaster ride. Still, none of that distracted her from the sight in front of her. "This place…" she searched for the right words to describe it, only for Chat Noir to chime in.

"It's noticeable and impractical. Hiding out here is our only choice, though, unless we want to be temporarily homeless." His outlook on it was completely different than hers. She guessed he was used to expensive and grand stuff such as this. As a working-class citizen, one of the bathrooms here could easily be the size of her bedroom.

"I was going to say _beautiful_ , but I guess that works, too…"

He glanced over at her, blinking a couple times prior to responding, as if her words were a surprise to him. "I'm glad you think so." He headed on in, prompting her to follow him. He unlocked the door, holding it open for her as she walked in.

The inside was just as glamorous. It was like a perfect magazine cover.

The white walls and flooring that would normally look plain or dull somehow provided a classy yet modern feel to the place. The main room was cozy, and the furniture was rather conglomerate, but pleasing to the eye. She was afraid to even sit in case she would wrinkle the fabric or stain it with something she didn't even know was on her pants.

"Make yourself at home." She hesitated for a moment, unsure if he was only saying that to be courteous, before deciding to damn it all and take a seat. The couch was cream but inlaid with a fine green silk; leaves embroidered so delicately that they might have landed there in the spring and just sunk in, though she know they must've took hundreds of hours to sew. It felt soft to the touch, almost like the fuzz on a peach. It reminded her of her faux fur pillow back at home.

"Who owns this place?" Marinette didn't think the question to be rude initially, however soon realized it wasn't her business. Since she'd already gotten the question out, she decided to just complete her thought. "You didn't kill the owner, did you?" One could hear the expectation in her tone.

"I don't kill," he said it earnestly. There was no reason for him to lie about it. "The place is mine." It was technically his under his family's name, however they almost never visited this home, so he called it his. They originally bought it for some vacation or getaway purposes, however with his father always having no time to spare, it was never put to proper use.

"I guess being a successful criminal makes a lot of money." It was clear she was digging for information now. Chat Noir indulged in her little interview, however only briefly.

"I hardly keep any stolen goods."

"What? Where do they go?"

"That's confidential." He pressed a finger to his upturned lips, rubbing it in her face that he had a few secrets he'd never let spill.

"Then, do you work a side job?" She wondered where he got his source of income from. Clearly, he was well off.

"You could say that." His response was vague, avoiding the question. Marinette knew pressing for more knowledge wouldn't do anything but annoy him, so she decided to end the questioning there. Taking a few moments to think, the girl realized something. _She_ didn't need to hide out. Sure, maybe he did, as he was an escapee or whatever, but Marinette did nothing wrong. If anything, running away only made her look all the more suspicious.

"You kidnapped me," she informed him, standing up. She knew it wasn't really a kidnapping, as she semi-voluntarily went along with the situation, but she had to figure out a way to get out of here, even if it was a gorgeous environment.

"You were very willing for being the hostage you claim to be," he watched her every move, amusedly.

"I hope you know I'm not staying here." Her eyes met his, and there was a pregnant silence. His lips fell into a frown, expressing his unenthusiasm.

"You have no choice. Leaving this place is the same as submitting yourself to a life behind bars." Though this may have been the case for most people, Marinette had more leverage than the average law-breaker.

"That's not true." She spoke with confidence, assuming an assertive stance, her hands placed firmly above her hips. "My father is a sheriff."

His argument was now flawed. Making it seem like he was doing this only to protect her was no longer a choice. Besides, with this newly found information, he could potentially be in more danger than expected. "Still, I can't let you leave."

"And why not?"

"We've only just met. I have no reason to believe that you won't immediately turn me in, especially knowing now your connections with people of rank." He slowly approached her, running a hand through his hair.

"I wouldn't."

"Staying silent would benefit you in no way." He knew about the intentions of people all too well.

"Like I said, I'm _leaving_." She marched straight for the door, attempting to storm past him.

"You keep forgetting who has the upperhand here, Marinette." It was a slip of the tongue that she didn't catch. He didn't dare correct himself, fearing that it'd only draw attention to his mistake. He took a hold of her arm, his leathered hand pulling her back. That same leathered hand had been on her far too many times today.

She winced, expecting to be hit. She was scared, but would never back down. "Go ahead, do what you want. Strangle me if that fulfills your sick desires. I'd rather die than stay with you." Marinette, even being in such a dangerous situation, couldn't help but say such things. The words were harsh, but she had to get her point across.

He closed his eyes for a moment, dropping his hand from her wrist and instead clenching it by his side. She'd hit him with a low-blow, but it was nothing he didn't deserve. "I don't want to hurt you." He looked directly at her, the sincerity in his tone evident. "But you do seem to be forgetting that, if I wanted to, I could destroy Paris on a whim." The idea wasn't as far-fetched as it seemed. Various citizens had been unlucky enough to witness his superhuman powers, even being able to take down buildings and lift vehicles.

Marinette's hand instinctively flew to her pocket, where her phone was previously kept. She felt and felt, but alas, nothing was there. She assumed it must've dropped when they were jumping around in the air. Her back pocket wasn't the most safe place to have stored it… Chat Noir wore a knowing, yet annoyingly smug expression. She narrowed her eyes. He played dirty, and she hated it. If only she'd had some stupid magic suit as well, he would be dead meat. "Show me to my room."


	5. IV

He knew it wasn't fair to threaten her, but what else could he do? His brute strength was the only thing he could use to keep her here. The world wasn't fair, and there weren't any exceptions for her.

"Come." He led her up the staircase, knowing she was behind him due to her soft footsteps that followed his. A damper was certainly put on the mood, and he could tell she was angrily sulking without even having to turn around. They walked down until the end of the hall, where Chat Noir twisted open a room on his right-hand side. He stepped in, allowing Marinette to see her new bedroom. She joined him inside.

It was an undeniably nice and opulent room, however Marinette felt as if admitting to liking it was wrong. She felt weird about the whole situation, almost like she was being bribed or bought. It would've hurt her pride a little less if he'd instead chained her up in a shed. Instead, she was given a queen-sized bed, which reminded her of a snowdrift, so white and feathery; one large window curtained with a sheet of silk of that drew over the panes by means of a white cord on which it was run at the top; an old-fashioned ornate gilt mirror with a gold border, and a door in the corner which concealed a walk-in closet. It all felt so wrong.

"You must be tired," he noted. It was well into the later hours of the evening, and Marinette had been through a lot more today than usual.

"No," she rejected his idea without a second thought. She wouldn't allow herself to fall asleep or be caught off guard in his presence.

"Hungry?"

"No." Again, no hesitation. She wouldn't eat anything he cooked. If not only to avoid being poisoned, it would be her own way of silently protesting.

"Then," he wandered to a nearby shelf, taking something from one of the higher sills. "Why don't we do something to pass the time?" He glanced back at Marinette.

His suggestive words caused her eyes to widen in shock. He said he didn't kill, but that didn't mean he wouldn't do _other_ things. Marinette's feet were frozen in place, no matter how much she willed them to move.

"Have you suddenly developed a paralysis?" His tone held an edge of annoyance, however it was meant in a playful manner. His words fell on deaf ears. Sighing, Chat Noir wrapped an arm around her waist, hoisting her up just enough to carry her to the bed. He dropped her on the duvet, before taking a seat beside her. Finally finding some strength in her legs, Marinette shoved herself further away from him. She grabbed one of the cotton pillows, using it as a shield.

He knitted his eyebrows together, confused. He reached over, taking the pillow from her hands. "What are you—"

She cowered in the corner of the bed, now using her arms as a barrier between the two. Her eyes were screwed shut, and she could feel the throbbing sensation behind her eyelids. Her fingers were curled into fists, nails digging into her palms. Fear engulfed her conscience, knocking all other rational thoughts aside. She was willing to do a lot, but this… She couldn't ever do this.

Chat Noir felt something pang in his chest. He couldn't quite put his finger on what it was, deciding to identify it as guilt. "...You really think I'm going to do something to you, don't you?" His tone was knowing, yet softer than usual. "If I were going to, I would've done it long ago."

Marinette's eyes popped open, finding Chat Noir a safe foot away from her. She couldn't believe he was playing around with her like this. Did he enjoy seeing her writhe in fear? Did he like scaring her with thoughts of rape? She couldn't believe how horrible he was. Her eyes blazed with fury.

"You terrorized another human being, who says I'm not next?" She finally addressed the rumors. Maybe she just liked to believe they were rumors. Marinette was always someone who tried to think the best of everyone, regardless of who, however it was getting hard for her to do that with him after hearing the news.

"What?" He was taken aback. "Who said that?"

"The media." She said it so surely that it was almost offensive.

"Don't believe everything you hear from the fucking media," his temper slowly began to rise as he snarled at her. The media would do anything for a good scoop, giving no shits about whether it was credible or not. Quite frankly, he was fed up with it.

"The word of a criminal is less reputable than any news source." Her voice was quiet, but still held just as much strength as his booming voice. They maintained eye contact, his eyes searching hers for any sign of dishonesty. He couldn't find any.

"That's all you view me as, isn't it? Some fucked up, twisted miscreant." His question was blunt.

"You give me no reason to believe otherwise." She averted her gaze, pretending to smooth down the bedsheets.

Chat Noir rose from the bed, sparing her one last look before turning away for good. "If you so _desperately_ want me to be the bad guy, then I will be."

He exited the room, slamming the door shut behind him, causing her to flinch. She'd really done it now.

As a sorry attempt to make herself feel better, Marinette snuggled into the soft eiderdown duvet and closed her eyes as it caressed her cheek. Her dark hair spread out around her head like a halo. She took deep breaths, trying to relax, before her facade completely deteriorated.

For the first time since she'd met Chat Noir, she cried. The tears burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down her face. She felt the muscles of her chin tremble, looking toward the window as if the light could soothe her. She didn't want to cry over some stupid guy, yet here she was, doing exactly that. She wasn't even sure of her reason for crying. Maybe it was just a build up of everything. There was static in her head, the side effect of all the stress and fear she'd been living with for the past few hours. It took something out of her that she didn't know she had left to give.

She rolled over onto her other side, only to feel something solid nudge her arm. Marinette sat up, not wanting to accidentally lie down on something. She observed the object, which she soon realized to be a box. As the covers partially obstructed it from her view, she swept them out of the way with her arm, getting a better look at it. To her surprise, it was… a game of chess?

She smeared the tears off her wet cheeks with her arm, considering that her vision was blurred and she didn't read it properly. Lo and behold, the box still had the bold text imprinted on it, with the word _chess_ written clearly on top. She felt a wave of shame rush over her.

"That must've been what he got from the shelf…" She picked the box up gingerly, running her thumb over the smooth wood. Chat Noir hadn't done anything to her, nor did he want to. It was only her imagination running wild, and her brain's sensor for danger going off at everything. Sure, he threatened her a couple times, but her words were far nastier than his. She didn't know him, his story, or anything about his life, yet… She had the nerve to say such things. It must've hurt him. Marinette stared down at the item, as if in a trance. Then, out of the blue, she laughed. It was rather inappropriate timing, but she couldn't stop herself.

She continued to giggle, as if a comedian were performing an act in that very room. She felt stupid. Incredibly stupid. Her body, not knowing how to react without resorting to sobbing some more, found this to be the appropriate alternative response. She brushed her hair away from her face, taking a few more deep breaths.

After she sorted out her out of control emotions, she felt she was being a little melodramatic. Nothing really _did_ happen to her. Everything was okay. Marinette got off the bed, her legs still a bit shaky as she did so. It took her a couple seconds to steady herself, but she eventually got there, making her way over to the shelf and placing the box on its respective ledge.

Marinette knew what she needed to do next. She had to apologize. A few moments of consideration was all it took for her to swing open the door to her room and fly down the staircase. She didn't allow herself time to hesitate or change her mind.

Entering the main room, Marinette spotted Chat Noir with ease. He was lounging on the cream-colored couch, perhaps taking a nap, his posture rigid despite his relaxed position. She could almost see the irritation engraved in his features. She hadn't thought he'd be affected so greatly. For a moment then, she almost forgot he was a person with feelings just as everyone else.

"Chat Noir," she approached him in a nonchalant manner, fidgeting with her hands that remained clasped behind her back.

"What?" He asked, coming off as disinterested. So, he was awake. He didn't bat an eye, remaining unbothered by her presence. Still, she continued even with his discouraging reaction.

"I'm sorry." She tried not to sound too desperate, however it wasn't working very well.

"For what?" He continued to brush her off, acting as if he had no memory of the past hour, and it made her feel frustrated. She was trying to be genuine and convey a message to him, yet he refused to accept it. Marinette took a deep breath.

"I'm so, so sorry." Her voice cracked toward the end. She swore at herself, hoping the breakdown she had earlier would've sucked out all the tears from her body. Apparently, it didn't. "You've done nothing but help me, and yet I…" She tucked her hair behind her ear, trying to compose herself. "I didn't mean to be so untrusting, it's just—"

Before she could even register it, warm arms engulfed her fragile figure. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, gently rubbing her arm. Despite the heaviness in her stomach, it fluttered at the feeling of her body pressed against his. She sunk into the warmth of his side, appreciative of the simple gesture. His touch made the room warmer somehow, her future within its walls seeming a little less bleak.

"You're forgiven," he assured her, his monotone voice finally altering into one of more expression.

"No, you don't underst—"

"Shhh." Chat Noir shushed her, causing her to halt in her explanation. "Stop talking." Somehow, him saying those words made her think of earlier when they were escaping. She supposed an explanation wasn't needed, anyhow… He seemed to understand. Marinette found it oddly reassuring how he could read her like an open book, however it made her feel slightly uneasy, as well. Being transparent wasn't very beneficial for her, though it did make explaining herself take fewer words.

She gathered her thoughts for a few moments before speaking up once more. "By the way," she wiped at her damp eyes with the back of her hand. "My name is Marinette."

There was a silence as they both remained still. Marinette began to wonder if he even heard her. Pulling her head away from his chest, she glanced up to observe his expression. Her eyes widened.

Chat Noir was smiling.

Perhaps _smile_ wasn't the right word for it. His teeth weren't exposed, only a faint curve to the lips, and slight creasing beneath the eyes, but no movement of the cheeks. On anyone else, it would be a grimace, at best. On this face, however, it was a sign of bliss.

And, during the short-lived moment, her tummy did that tingly thing.


End file.
